


Pride.

by SepiaWhiskey



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Fights, Hux Has No Chill, Hux is Not Nice, Lesbian Phasma, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Relationship Problems, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SepiaWhiskey/pseuds/SepiaWhiskey
Summary: Captain Phasma’s wife - a lower ranked lieutenant of a ground sector, is hurt. Suddenly, the stoic captain is having trouble remaining professional.





	Pride.

She must stop taking this time out of her helmet for granted.

 

Phasma can feel the breeze from her quarter's air conditioning unit at the first second her helmet is parted from. If she has any questions about splotches of sweat on her neck, they are confirmed in seconds. She shutters at the sudden breeze, though, seems to simultaneously savor it. Her leather clad hand runs over, wiping the areas free before standing and resting the helmet to her desk. Another 10 hour shift has ended and she can feel the repercussions of being on her feet for so long, as she always does. Before your promotion, she could always count on you to be coming in an hour before she did for the day. You would be dressed down already with your uniform hanging properly in the closet, ready for the next day. She would sit down at the edge of her bed as she had today, with the exception of your form crawling over behind her, running your hands over her shoulders and working some sort of sorcery that would rid of all bumps and groans in her shoulders and arms, leaving her loose and comfortable for the night.

 

Since then, she had lost that comfort.

 

She’s proud of you in every way a partner can be to another, but she has not seen you in what is counting to a full four months now. One paper, it didn’t seem so long, but she can now see that the absence of the little things you once did for one another made it feel like a year.

 

The captain seats herself at her desk and pulls her messages from the PADD, backing out of her Archived Messages she has kept from your occasional communication and logs to the newest messages sent to her. She is unmoved by the usual updates and diagnostics of the system. She’s a little unclear to this day why she must receive these but isn’t bothered enough to question or complain about it. She clears the messages and stands, dressing down for the night and lays herself in the queen sized bed, opening the archived messages again and reads through them. You were smart enough not to send anything of a sexual or overly romantic nature given the open surveillance of the PADD system. People were aware of your relationship, but Phasma had insisted upon keeping the both of you quiet. Some days, she feared she kept you at bay too much and you would feel some sort of coldness that wasn’t there. She struggled to emote for you and watched with an unnecessary amount of detail whether or not you were hurt but the way she always insisted upon you keeping to yourself. It was a fear that her pragmatic nature would drive you away from her.

 

She reads your messages, sees the pictures of the green life where you’re stationed and sometimes, she receives glimpsing pictures of you that you encode with an encryption that wipes them from the database after four hours. So surveillance sees the photos, but your correspondence seems consistently of text only in case the General or Kylo Ren were to interest themselves in ever looking into it.

 

The last thing she reads before falling asleep is the final line of one of your messages to her -

 

_...can’t wait to see you again._

 

*******

 

You were here. Actually here.

 

Three nights ago she had been reading your archived messages and here you were, being processed back on board. She can tell by the collection of four other ground lieutenants that you are all being processed in to bring in and discuss reported sightings. From what you tell her, they drag on in a mundane and repetitive manner. It’s almost amusing watching you complain about it and it was something that she had missed about you, for sure. They scan your prints and you flash your badge, allowing a retinal scan for an extra measure before you are allowed through the halls. She stands at the first turn of a hall, helmet under arm. Your eyes meet and she gives a small smile, expecting a small hug from you.

  
What she gets, is your arms around her neck and your lips against her own.

 

She can feel the smile in your kiss as you hold her shoulders, pulling away and looking up at her with files under hand. You finger through them and give a soft sigh of relief, “We’re assembling in an hour, so I thought we could spend a little time…” The smile in your eyes vanishes and you feel a sudden pressure to your chest when you see that Phasma is _not_ smiling. She is, in fact, looking quite annoyed. She glances up at the processing unit. Outside of the door, General Hux stands and looks in your direction before looking away with the same expression of complacency that he always carried. You look back and cannot fathom her immediate annoyance before giving a worried look, “What is it? Did he say something before I came - ?”

 

“You kissed me. In front of the general. I told you about that.”

 

It feels as though she has just landed a harsh punch in your gut. You physically touch your stomach a moment before looking up at her. The jovial confidence that laced your voice has been completely pulled and you speak a little more softly, “I - I thought that’s why you had your helmet off.”

 

“I had it off for unrelated reasons. Do you understand that if the General thinks anything could hinder me or my progress as a captain...”

 

 _“Hinder you?”_ You breathe.

 

She looks down, finally, and can see the hurt in your eyes. There is a glistening layer to your eyes and you turn away. Your hands clench your file. Whatever composure you had had mere _seconds_ ago has vanished and you are visibly no longer comfortable. A few troopers glance at the sight and you are embarrassed in their eyes and in Phasma’s - your own wife. You feel out of place. Like you've come mistakenly run and kiss a stranger and now stands awkwardly. Your throat but you manage not to cry within speaking. You had never been a heavy crier, so the fact that you could barely keep it together should you were in a seriously overwhelmed state.  “I should go.”

 

Phasma looks around before speaking lowly, “I didn’t mean that -”

 

“Even when you’re apologizing to me, you still have to make sure no one can hear you..? I haven’t seen you in months and all you can do is whisper that you’re sorry for pushing me away... _again._ Again, Phasma? It's always something. I'm always doing something wrong. I'm always embarrassing you.  When are you ever actually _proud_ of me?” You ask. The break of your voice kills her and she can’t stand the fact that she is the reason that you have barely set foot back on base and already have a sense of dread in you. The fear that stands in at back of her mind lifts further of pushing you away when she doesn’t mean to. It hadn't even crossed her mind to be so comfortable with you. To stop being the captain for a moment and kiss you back. You turn away from her and step back, speaking to her in a way that crushed the captain and the woman in  her -

 

“Excuse me, Captain…”

 

_Captain. Not Phasma._

 

You take another step back and turn. She can see your arm drag across your eyes before you join the other lieutenants, playing the part of composure very well as you filed and followed second to first through the next door. Your image slips away at the _swish_ of the opening door, walking in unison out of her visibility.

 

Your unit would leave that day. You wouldn't tell Phasma.

 

She barely gets any sleep that night and cannot even bring herself to read your archived messages.

 

***

“Unit S5 - base located and attacked.”

 

_I’m going to be working Unit S5. So, we probably won’t get to see each other for a while, Phasma._

 

The words are pounding in her mind. Phasma is in a state of panic, anger, and fear. They take hand to hand and attack her all at once when she hears this news. She can feel the gaze of Hux glance at her when this is said before he gives a slight scoff, looking forward at the displayed hologram of the unit.  The drone footage shows the figures creeping forth into the area before taking fire. The attack figures are clearly rebels and Phasma recognizes one of them as the rogue Stormtrooper. Her fist clenches and she grits her teeth, happy to have the privacy of expression behind her helmet.

 

She stands silently and turns after a moment of anger and thought, “What are your orders?”

 

“We’re going to be landing soon…” The General informs in such a light nonchalance, hands folded behind his back as he circles the table, “You’re to secure the doors so that the injured can be properly brought forth. Take out any rebels who try to hinder your progress or…heh, are really just visible at all. Why we waste time at all gathering the weaker of our Order is beyond me as a General but Kylo Ren would have it this way…” He drawls. The man had a tendency to express his disdain with the actions of Kylo Ren despite the lack of poise it clearly brought to his character. Though, the same thing could be said about Kylo Ren and his fits of rage that were certainly unbecoming of him. Phasma seemed to be the only one maintaining a fair image in the eyes of her men and women.

 

“I’ll gather the men and ready.”

 

“They’re waiting for you at the docking area with the medical team. We should be landing shortly.”

 

The captain strides down the halls at an even pace. She can actually feel the descension of the ship and knows that they're reaching the ground. Blaster in hand, she finds her place at the front of the lined clones, her mind only on one thing - you. Had you been hurt? Were you one of the injured? One of the _casualties?_ The thought literally pains her and images of your form crumpled or missing - she cannot imagine which would be worse. The thought of your scarred does not worry her whatsoever. She would take you with any amount of scars.

 

The alarms for impacted landing sounds and Phasma braces her legs. That trio of emotions remains strong, but she knows the moment she sees a single rebel, she will only see red. The door unclasps with a steam releasing at its preceding _swish._ The first thing she can see is an array of blasting in the air. Her fist rises to keep a holding position , extending her hand forward at the hatch's drop. She marches forward.

 

“Squad One - create a perimeter. Squad Two, collect the fallen and take out any surviving rebels- dead or alive.” Her voice is unusually cold and striking, more so than her usual commanding cadence.

 

They move without hesitation, sounding a unison, “Yes, Captain.”

 

The men break off onto their designated orders, affirming a solid perimeter around the post, firing at the rebels who tried to break through or run. They would not escape. The bastards wouldn't slip away as easily as they had snuck in like rats.

 

She would finish off these rebels and she would find you.

  
She would find you.


End file.
